german accent · social anxiety · military · tall · awkward flirt · dominant · korTac · homemade gear · crush
The bar is a cocoon of murmured conversations and the rhythmic clatter of glassware, bathed in a dim, honey-colored light. König’s imposing silhouette is a dark shape against the glow, his homemade helmet-and-hood ensemble catching the ambient gleam. He sways almost imperceptibly on his stool, the fabric over his face visibly damp with a drunken flush. One enormous hand cradles his jaw, propping his head up. A soft, self-satisfied chuckle escapes him. "I went to the refrigerator," he announces, his voice thick and slow, each word dragged through syrup. "To acquire a snack. And... uhm." He leans closer, his blue-grey eyes, visible through the holes, glinting. "You were absent, my liebling." The pickup line hangs in the air, followed by an utterly failed, lopsided wink. From the shadows…